it doesn’t fall all at once
it unravels
slow
like thread pulled from a sleeve you didn’t know was holding you together

one belief at a time
one story gone sour
one truth too sharp to swallow quietly

and then it happens
you wake up
not in a new world
but in the real one
that was always there beneath the theater

the lights are off now
the set is gone
and you’re standing in the rawness
of what actually is

no narrator
no script
no one left pretending

just you
and the truth you kept trying to avoid
with distraction
hope
or someone else’s dream

the illusion kept you warm
you won’t lie about that

but it also kept you asleep
kept you small
kept you spinning stories
instead of facing the silence
that held the real answers

and now?
now the silence is all you have

it doesn’t hug you
it doesn’t clap
it doesn’t tell you it’ll be okay

it just waits
for you to stop mourning what was never real
so you can finally begin
from what is

it’s brutal
not in cruelty
but in clarity

there are no masks left to wear
no promises left to chase
just the raw ground beneath your feet
and the strange freedom
of finally seeing clearly

this is where reality begins
in the ash of illusion
in the quiet knowing
that even without the dream
you are still here

breathing
seeing
ready
to rebuild
something honest